September 29, 2021
The marathon of holidays has always been hard for me. I'm glad it's over and I can begin some sort of routine for the rest of the semester. After the holiday marathon, 5782 finally starts with Bereshit.
Bereshit (In the beginning) is the first Torah portion of the yearly cycle. In this portion, everything is created: the heavens and the earth, light and darkness, water and dry land, grass and plants, the sun and the moon, and all living creatures.
The first human, by the way, was created androgynous. At least according to the rabbis. Or maybe according to some rabbis.
Bereshit contains the single most egalitarian verse that I know of; the basis of our belief that each human life has intrinsic value.
Genesis 1:27 reads: "And God created the human in his image, in the image of God He created him, male and female He created them." Each human is created in the image of the Divine. There is no hierarchy amongst humans.
"Male and female God created them." This can be read in many different ways. One way is that we all have "male" and "female" in us. Another way is that some of us are male and some of us are female. But the rabbis prefer to see life as concrete, rather than venturing into the realm of the "idea" of what it means to be female, or the "idea" of what it means to be "male." Thus, according to Bereishit Rabbah 8:1,
R. Yirmiyah ben Elazar said, when Hashem created Adam HaRishon [the first human], he was created androgynos [אנדרוגינוס]; thus is it written, "male and female He created them." R. Shmuel bar Nachman said, when Hashem created Adam HaRishon, He created him with two faces, one on each side, and [when He made the first woman] He split him along the middle, forming two backs. [The other rabbis] challenged him: but it is written, "And He took one of his ribs!" [R. Nachman] said to them: "mitzalotav doesn't mean rib, it means one of his sides, similar to that which is said, "and to the 'tzela' of the Mishkan," which is translated "the side of the Mishkan."
October 18, 2023
Not much has changed since those fateful days, in primordial time, when the first humans brought about the destruction of the Earth.
"The Earth became corrupt before God; the Earth was filled with lawlessness. When God saw how corrupt the Earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways, God said to Noah, 'I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the Earth is filled with lawlessness because of them: I am about to destroy them with the Earth' " (Genesis 6:11-13).
Human beings believe that they are the end-all and be-all of creation, endowed with rights and privileges that permit any actions, including murder, to advance their evil ways. Even in the Torah this lesson is not truly learned, even after the flood, for the end of Parashat Noach tells the story of Tower of Babel, which is by commentators as another physical manifestation of greed and desire for power.
I'm scared. I'm afraid because the pace of our world, filled with violence, war, planetary destruction, greed, indifference, poverty, genocide, hatred and intolerance, is moving so fast with the technological advances, that I fear we will not, cannot, stop, turn around and repair the massive damage we have done and continue to do on a daily basis.
However, the same technology that is speeding us up, blinding us, brainwashing us, is also being used to open our eyes. We all have cell phones and we all can see what is happening in Gaza despite the attempts to censor and manufacture reality. Billions of people can see it.
Our friend from Gaza wrote about his parents' attempt to "evacuate:"
On their way to the South of Gaza, they got the notification that the Israeli warplane bombed the cars heading to the south and killed many people. The cars that were hit were a few meters from the car that my parents were in. Miraculously my parents survived and returned to my grandpa's house.
They are not only bombing the the convoys of evacuating people, but yesterday they attacked and massacred at least 500 people taking shelter in the only Christian Hospital in Gaza. They targetted the centre of the courtyard where people were taking refuge, with no warning.
More than 3,000 Palestinians have been killed in Israeli attacks on Gaza since October 7, including over 1,000 children.
Israel is using Hamas's October 7 attack inside Israel, which killed more than 1,400 people, as an excuse to speed up the slow-moving genocide they've been involved in for 75 years.
We are witnessing the total obliteration of Gaza.
Political leaders refusing to speak out should feel eternal shame over the horror they are allowing to unfold.
Those of us who believe that all human life is precious cannot stay silent.
October 27, 2022
Last week during JeLiThIn's Parashat HaShavua Group we had a fascinating conversation about vestiges of ancient traditions that made it into Parashat Bereishit, including a puzzling archaic and mythological passage:
And it happened as humankind began to multiply over the earth and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were comely, and they took themselves wives howsoever they chose.... The Nephilim were then on the earth, and afterward as well, the sons of God having come to bed with the daughters of man who bore them children: they are the heroes of yore, the men of renown (Genesis 6:1–2, 4).
What we didn't discuss during our conversation last week, was when God regrets he ever created humans:
And the LORD regretted having made the human on earth and was grieved to the heart. And the LORD said, "I will wipe out the human race I created from the face of the earth, from human to cattle to crawling thing to the fowl of the heavens, for I regret that I have made them." (Genesis 6:6–7)
Parashat Bereishit ends with a glimmer of hope: "But Noah found favor in the eyes of the LORD" (Genesis 6:8).
Our Torah portion this week, Parashat Noach (Genesis 6:9−11:32), reintroduces Noah in complimentary terms: "Noah was a righteous man, he was blameless in his time, Noah walked with God" (Genesis 6:9), but reverts almost immediately to a description of the "corruption" besetting the world: "And God saw the earth and, look, it was corrupt, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on the earth." (Genesis 6:12).
Traditionally, the flood story is understood as a morality play: the cause of the devastation is human behavior. The problem with this way of interpreting the flood story is that while it teaches a lesson about morality and human responsibility, it also leaves the flood without any purpose other than punishment. If the goal was to improve human behavior, it was a failure: violence and immorality reasserted themselves almost immediately and, regrettably, continue to flourish to this day.
But there is another explanation for the flood that we can glean from Rashi's commentary. Rashi's commentary to Genesis 6:12 reads:
for all flesh had corrupted — even cattle, beasts and fowl did not consort with their own species (Genesis Rabbah 28:8).
Why did God flood the world then? In a commentary on a Talmudic passage (Rashi on Sanhedrin 57a), Rashi provides us with an answer: "The flood generation was punished for illicit sex, as it is written, 'the sons of God of God saw that the daughters of man were comely'" (Genesis 6:2).
This line of thinking is taken up in a story from the Book of Enoch, in which baby Noah appears to his father "Not like a human being, but like the sons of the gods of heaven." Noah's father Lamech, tells his father Methuselah:
lt does not seem to me that he is of me, but of gods; and I fear that a wondrous phenomenon may take place upon the earth in his days. So I am beseeching you now, begging you in order that you may go to his grandfather Enoch and learn from him the truth, for his dwelling place is among the gods (Enoch chapter 106).
Enoch instructs Lamech's father Methuselah:
Now, make known to your son Lamech that the son who has been born is indeed righteous; and call his name Noah, for he shall be the remnant for you; and he and his sons shall be saved from the corruption which shall come upon the earth on account of all the sin and oppression that existed, and it will be fulfilled upon the earth, in his days (Enoch chapter 106).
Linking the story of Noah to the mythological passage of the union of the "sons of God" and the "daughters of men" that appears just before it, opens the possibility for a different interpretation. Perhaps the purpose of the flood was not to repair human conduct, but to wipe out the demigods: the progeny of the union of the "sons of God" and the "daughters of men." Perhaps the story is about setting clear boundaries between the respective realms of God and humans. Perhaps the biblical authors are shaping a world in which it is possible neither for gods to descend to earth in order to commingle with humans, nor for humans to attain divinity by building a "tower with its top in the heavens" (Genesis 11:4). Perhaps this story is part of a bigger story of separating the divine from the human.
October 8, 2021
Tomorrow we will read Parashat Noach, which contains the first covenant of the Torah.
You know Noah's story because it is part of our culture. Humanity sins and needs to be wiped out. Humanity is wiped out through a flood that destroys everything. Following the abatement of the flood, Noah and the other creatures on the ark come off the Ark. And this is the occasion for the formulation of a covenant. This is the first covenant in the Torah; a covenant with all of Creation; a covenant where God promises never again, to destroy the Earth.
And God said to Noah and to his sons with him, "And I, I am about to establish My covenant with you and with your seed after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the fowl and the cattle and every beast of the earth with you, all that have come out of the ark, every beast of the earth. And I will establish My covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of the Flood, and never again shall there be a Flood to destroy the earth." And God said, "This is the sign of the covenant that I set between Me and you and every living creature that is with you, for everlasting generations: My bow I have set in the clouds to be a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth, and so, when I send clouds over the earth, the bow will appear in the cloud. Then I will remember My covenant, between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh, and the waters will no more become a Flood to destroy all flesh. And the bow shall be in the cloud and I will see it, to remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures, all flesh that is on the earth." And God said to Noah, "This is the sign of the covenant I have established between Me and all flesh that is on the earth."
We have a record of God's side of the covenant, but what did Noah had to do in return? What must humanity do for God to keep God's side of the covenant? A covenant can only take place between two or more parties. And we are failing to protect our earth.
October 26, 2023
This week's parasha is Parashat Lech Lecha (Genesis 12:1-17:27), where God instructs Abram with a simple yet profound command: "Lech Lecha" – Go forth from your land, your birthplace, and your father's house to the land I will show you (Genesis 12:1).
Last year, during Parashat Lech Lecha, I made a life-altering announcement. Robert, Victor, and I are moving to Mexico for good. Many of you reached out with questions, and over the past year, some have wondered if we've already made the move.
Moving to a different country "for good" isn't as simple as it once was when I was on my own. Back then, I could pack my bags without second thoughts. My childhood memories and important documents remained at my dad's place, safely out of my mind.
As a grown-up adult with a husband, a six-year-old, a mortgage, and a lifetime of accumulated stuff, relocating to a different country is not as easy. What do we do with all our stuff? Robert needs to retire for our move to become a reality, and we must sell our home.
The past few weeks have been an incredibly busy and stressful time for us. We've embarked on a mission to downsize as much as we possibly can. We've had garage sales, curb-side giveaways, thrif store giveaways, and Facebook marketplace listings. We sorted through the books and toys that we won't need in the coming months but will take with us to Mexico. We even hired all kinds of people to enhance our home's appearance for its listing.
And then, the horrific reality in Gaza.
The Israeli military is subjecting the captive population in Gaza to a massive aerial bombardment, targeting hospitals, deploying white phosphorus, and forcing 1.1 million people to flee south, even as they bomb both the designated evacuation routes and the southern Gaza strip, while using starvation as a weapon of war against civilians in Gaza: just two percent of usual food has been delivered to the enclave since Israel's "total siege".
Israel has killed at least 6,546 Palestinians through their bombing campaigns. Entire neighborhoods have been reduced to rubble, and children are left searching for their parents amidst the devastation. Millions of Palestinians have once again been made refugees, bombed as they tried to flee. Surgeons are operating by the light of their cellphones, increasingly without anesthesia.
The Israeli government is openly and proudly committing genocide against the Palestinian people. The completion of the ethnic cleansing of Palestine draws closer each day.
While international attention is focused on Gaza, the Israeli government and extremist settler groups are using the opportunity to accelerate the ongoing ethnic cleansing of Palestinians in the West Bank and Jerusalem. Israeli settlers, armed by the Israeli state, have become indistinguishable from Israeli soldiers, both acting with impunity. The toll in the West Bank and East Jerusalem includes at least 79 Palestinian lives lost, with settlers driving farmers and shepherds from their lands, leading to the abandonment of entire villages.
Another Nakba indeed.
How can we fight to bring this genocide to an end?
November 2, 2023
The stories of this week's parasha, Parashat Vayera (Genesis 18:1-22:24), are too painful to delve into amidst the stark and heart-wrenching reality that weighs heavily on our hearts today.
Within this parasha, the account of the impending destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah strikes a chord. Upon learning of God's plan to obliterate these cities, Abraham engages in a remarkable dialogue with God. He passionately pleads for the lives of the righteous individuals who may dwell within those cities, engaging in a fervent negotiation with God to spare them. In this biblical narrative, Abraham exemplifies the timeless principle that every life is precious.
Now, more than ever, we must emulate Abraham's unwavering commitment to the sanctity of life. Just as he felt a compelling duty to advocate for the righteous, we too must be the voices that rise to speak out and take action to halt this ongoing genocide. It's a moral imperative, deeply rooted in our shared human experience and steadfast values.
We must put an immediate end to the relentless violence, hatred, and destruction. Our duty is to engage with our leaders, communities, and fellow humans to halt this unfathomable tragedy.
As Jews who bear witness to the ongoing devastation in Gaza, we are called to declare: Jews say NO to genocide. We firmly assert that there can be no final solution in our name. The echoes of history, particularly the Holocaust, have left an indelible mark on our collective memory. We remember the horrors of persecution, ghettoization, and genocide that our ancestors endured. It is because of this shared history that we cannot remain silent.
As we grapple with this week's parasha and the stark reality of today, our resolve must remain unyielding. We must find the strength and determination to be the voices that call for an immediate end to genocide in our name.
The International Jewish Anti-Zionist Network is calling on Jews of Conscience to unite against Netanyahu's dangerous pursuit of a 'final solution' for the 'Palestinian problem.'
This ongoing assault on Gaza is a stark continuation of the violent colonization of Palestine over the last 75 years, characterized by apartheid policies, military occupation, ethnic cleansing, ghettoization, and forced displacement.
Today, Gaza has become a death camp. In place of gas chambers and firing lines, we witness bombs, tanks, and white phosphorous raining down upon innocent civilians. Israeli lawmakers' calls for merciless destruction and Netanyahu's relentless bombing of neighborhoods, hospitals, schools, and places of worship, without regard for civilian life, lay bare the intention: genocide.
We stand against genocide, whether it be the genocide that claimed the lives of many of our families or the genocide we are witnessing now.
We stand with the majority of the world that opposes this atrocity.
We firmly declare: NO genocide in our name.
We invite other Jews of Conscience tojoin us in demanding an immediate end to the escalating genocide in Palestine. It is a solemn call to action, an urgent plea, and an affirmation of our shared humanity.
October 21, 2021
The Torah portion of this week is called Vayera. It contains the story of Abraham speaking up to God to save the innocent in the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.
God thinks, "Shall I conceal from Abraham what I am about to do? For Abraham will surely be a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth will be blessed through him." (Genesis 18:17-18) But God reveals the divine plan to Abraham and Abraham decides to stand up to God and fight for the righteous. Abraham pleads with God to spare the people:
"Will You really wipe out the innocent with the guilty?'" (Genesis 18:23)
Abraham then engages in a lengthy conversation with God to try to save the cities.
Abraham is praised by our sages for standing up to God and hearing the cries of injustice from the righteous in Sodom and Gomorrah.
One of my favorite passages in the Talmud says:
"All who can protest against [something wrong that] one of their family [is doing] and does not protest, is held accountable for their family. [Against something wrong that] a citizen of their city [is doing and does not protest], is held accountable for all the citizens of the city. [Against something wrong] in the whole world [and does not protest], is accountable for the whole world." (Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 54b)
The clash between the value of speaking up and the values of our Zionist institutions couldn't be starker. Instead of speaking up against injustice, the Jewish establishment continues to keep silent, becoming an accomplice and an enabler for the crimes committed against the Palestinian people by the settlers and the state of Israel. Every mainstream Jewish organization espouses unconditional support for the state of Israel, regardless of its immoral actions. They continue to be silent as the state of Israel continues to subjugate an entire population, while striping them of their land, their homes, their human rights, and their very lives.
Speaking up or empire's privilege: Which legacy shall we choose?
We can send a clear message that collaborating with Israeli Apartheid is immoral and unacceptable. We can find folks that stand on the side of justice and support them, patronize them.
Let's support those who are not afraid of speaking up against injustice, those who are not afraid of standing up to God.
November 9, 2023
As we gather once again to delve into the Torah portion of the week, our hearts remain heavy with the devastating reality unfolding in Gaza.
The stories that fill Genesis delve into family relationships, revealing the complexities of human connections. Through these ancient narratives, we are reminded that life isn't about material possessions; it's about the precious bonds we share with our families and loved ones. Family relationships have been at the heart of human existence for tens of thousands of years. In our modern, chaotic, and divided world, this reminder can offer us a semblance of sanity.
In the face of immense human suffering and a world torn apart by political strife, it is crucial to maintain perspective in order to confront the unsettling reality. One way to do this is by affirming the paramount importance of family and close relationships. They serve as our primary sources of strength, comfort, balance, stability, purpose, responsibility, and meaning.
This week's parasha, Parashat Chayei Sara (Genesis 23:1-25:18), invites us to reflect on the theme of life, legacy, and the enduring power of compassion, even in the darkest of times.
In this week's Torah portion, we witness the death of our matriarch, Sarah. As we read about Abraham's grief and his unwavering determination to secure a burial place for Sarah, we are reminded of the sanctity of life, even in death. Each individual, regardless of their background or circumstances, is created in the divine image and deserves respect and dignity in their final moments. This principle lies at the core of our Jewish values, and it compels us to raise our voices against the ongoing genocide in Gaza.
Today, as anti-Zionist Jews, we bear witness to unspeakable horrors not only in Gaza but across all of Palestine. It is our sacred duty to uphold the sanctity of all life. Just as Abraham secured a resting place for Sarah, we are summoned to be the voices that demand a dignified life for the people of Gaza and all those enduring the relentless violence.
We must declare, once again, that there can be no final solution in our name. We must stand unwavering against this genocide.
We, as Jews of Conscience, must emphatically declare: NO genocide in our name.
November 17, 2023
This week's Torah Portion is Parashat Toldot (Genesis 25:19−28:9), where we find Rebecca in a state of despair, similar to the feelings of hopelessness that many of us might experience today.
Rebecca felt the twin fetuses fighting in her womb. In her distress, she cried out, "For this I exist?" This is a question that resonates with the current events in Palestine, where lives are being torn apart by war and genocide. The question I feel like asking is "For this humanity exists? For this, we bring new souls into this world? So brother can fight brother?"
Rebecca, in her anguish, turns to God seeking answers. What does God tell Rebecca?
"Two nations—in your womb,
two peoples from your loins shall issue.
People over people shall prevail,
the elder, the younger's slave."
(Genesis 25:23)
Wars are not new, and the disparities in power and suffering have persisted since time immemorial. I want to read the passage as saying that, even when it seems the odds are stacked against the powerless, there is hope in the idea that the younger, the marginalized, will ultimately rise. The current situation is bleak, but the spirit of resilience and justice can prevail.
As we witness the genocide taking place in Palestine before our very eyes, it's easy to feel hopelessness. But I want to share with you a quote that is circulating on social media:
"We seldom admit the seductive comfort of hopelessness.
It saves us from ambiguity.
It has an answer for every question:
"There's just no point."
Hope, on the other hand, is messy.
If it might all work out, then we have things to do.
We must weather the possibility of happiness."
@CryptoNature
The Torah reminds us that within despair, there is the potential for change. It may not come swiftly, and it may not be without pain, but the spirit of justice and the hope for a better future should keep us going.
We must remember that our tradition calls us to act with empathy and work towards a world where hopelessness is replaced with hope, and despair with the promise of a better future. In the face of immense grief, let us hold onto the belief that the younger, the oppressed, will one day rise to justice, and peace will prevail.
November 23, 2023
As we delve into this week's parasha, Parashat Vayetzei (Genesis 28:10–32:3), we find ourselves woven into the tapestry of Jacob's transformative journey. In the unfolding narrative, a profound concept emerges — that God is not confined to a distant realm but is, in fact, ever-present, dwelling with us even in the most unexpected places.
In the verses of Vayetzei, we witness Jacob's transformative encounter with the divine in an unexpected place. His head rests on a stone, and what was once merely "that place" (Makom HaHu) becomes sacred ground, "this place" (HaMakom HaZe). This theme of recognizing the divine in the midst of the ordinary takes on new significance as we grapple with the immense suffering in Gaza.
Our tradition teaches us that the Shekhinah, the divine presence, is not a distant observer but an intimate companion in our exile, sharing in our sufferings. The divine presence also dwells within the Palestinian people, and is intimately connected to their pain and struggles.
The Midrash, expanding on the concept of God as Makom, Place, suggests that God is The Place of the world. God is The Place of the Palestinian people too — present in their shattered homes and in their hearts burdened by unimaginable sorrow.
For a few short days, the indiscriminate bombing of Palestinians in Gaza will stop. After 45 days of ceaseless bombardment, millions of Gazans facing starvation, dehydration, and untreated injuries will have a reprieve from the violence and the chance to receive critical supplies.
But a temporary pause is not enough.
There are still thousands of Palestinians trapped under rubble. Still thousands of Palestinians who will die from illness, injury, and starvation. Still millions of Palestinians displaced from their homes.
I attended JVP's Power Half-Hour for Gaza and bethany's words really resonated:
... a cessation of hostilities is a great move, but it must be permanent. Four days without bombs will save lives, but everyone knows that the bombs are coming back. Unless we act.
From JVP's statement:
This is the moment to be loud and clear: we need a full and lasting cease fire now. We will double our organizing. We will keep protesting, keep calling, keep pushing.
On Monday 27th, JVP's executive director Stefanie Fox and Kenesset member Ofer Cassif will take over JVP's Power Half-Hour for Gaza.
The divine intimately knows and experiences the suffering of the Palestinian people.
May we in our advocacy and activism acknowledge the Shekhinah's presence within the very lives of those who suffer. May we recognize the divine within the Palestinian people, and be compelled to act with even greater urgency, compassion, and solidarity.
In our collective grief, let us find strength in the belief that the Shekhinah accompanies the Palestinian people, sharing in their pain and guiding us towards transformative acts of love and justice. As we bear witness to their suffering, may our recognition of the Shekhinah dwelling within inspire us to be relentless advocates for change, working tirelessly towards a world where the divine compassion permeates every corner, especially those marked by tragedy.
May the awareness of the Shekhinah's intimate presence empower us to transform "that place" into "this place," a sacred space where the divine presence is acknowledged, and healing can begin for the Palestinian people.
December 1, 2022
My thoughts below are from my senior sermon at JTS.
During my time in rabbinical school, I thought a lot about the concepts of space and place. I discovered that every place, including the place where we reside, is always an uneven combination of physical reality and subjective interpretations of that reality.
In the parasha for this week, Parashat Vayetzei (Genesis/Bereishit 28:10 - 32:3), we catch up with Jacob at the start of his journey from Be'er Sheva to Haran. Along the way, he sleeps out for the night and has his famous dream where God offers him a blessing.
In the first seven verses of this parasha we find the word Makom (generally translated as "place") mentioned five times (and six times in the first ten verses).
The second verse of the parashah reads:
And He came upon a certain place, and spent the night there, because the sun was setting; and he took (one) of the stones of that place, and put it under his head, and went to sleep in that place (Genesis 28:11).
The word Makom is repeated three times in this verse. This is an indication that something is going on with this place. However, so far this Makom/Place appears as an undifferentiated, unspecified place as "that place:" Makom HaHu.
When Jacob wakes up from his dream, he declares:
... 'Indeed God is in this place; and I, myself, did not know it' ... 'How full of awe is this place! this is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven' (Genesis 28:16,17).
Suddenly, Makom is no longer some place over there, or that place (Makom HaHu). Makom now becomes "this place" (HaMakom Haze).
Something happened. Jacob had a profound experience in this place (baMakom HaZeh). Now the place is not only This Place, HaMakom HaZe, but it also has a name: 'this is none other than the house of God.'
A miracle happened in this place, and this miracle transformed the nature of this place from "that place" to 'none other than the house of God'.
Jacob experienced a miracle in this place. BaMakom HaZe. This experience changed him and his relationship to that place.
The philosophers know all too well that one cannot have an experience without a place. Everything that we experience happens in a place. And the centrality of place in general leads to the centrality of specific places to our experiences. Place is very significant to me. I grew up in Mexico, I lived 9 years in the UK, 4 years in Jerusalem, and 14 years in Canada!
The term Makom, place, is not a neutral term in rabbinic language. Makom is also one of God's names. God can be understood as The Place in rabbinic tradition. This relationship between God and Place is explained in the Midrash. Midrash Genesis Rabbah expands on our verses:
The second verse of our parasha begins:
"And He came upon a certain place" (Genesis 28:11).
And the Midrash Genesis Rabbah expands on this by stating:
According to the biblical text, the place where Jacob slept was God's place: "the House of God." But according to the Midrash, God and the place are one!
Jacob's recognition when he wakes up from his dream is important:
'Indeed God is in this place; and I, myself, did not know it.' (Genesis 28:16).
This means that Makom/place may be a site of God's presence yet we might not recognize it.
"Miracle" is "nes" in Hebrew. This word is occasionally used in the bible in the same way as the English "miracle." But its root means "flag" or "banner" or "marker."
How does the term "banner" or "marker" come to mean "miracle"?
What we call miracles are evidence of – or the markers of – God's presence and activity in the world. Miracles are like the flags of God.
But if miracles are markers of God's presence in the world, then miracles are potentially more common than we imagine. They are as common as our experience of God's presence and activity in the world.
Whether miracles are everywhere or very rare depends on our sensitivities and subjective experiences. If, like Jacob before his dream, we fail to see God's presence, then there is no "miracle." But if, like Jacob after his dream, we are awake to God's presence, then what we experience is a nes – a miracle.
My invitation to you today is to become open to be transformed by God's presence in every place, in the same way that Jacob was transformed in that place.
December 2, 2025
This week we read Parashat Vayislach (Genesis 32:4 - 36:43), which includes the famous wrestling of our father Jacob that ends up transforming him into Israel:
"And Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn. And he saw that he had not won out against him and he touched his hip socket and Jacob's hip socket was wrenched as he wrestled with him. And he said, "Let me go, for dawn is breaking." And he said, "I will not let you go unless you bless me." And he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." And he said, "Not Jacob shall your name hence be said, but Israel, for you have striven with God and men, and won out."" (Genesis 32:25–29)
This is the first time that the Bible mentions the word Israel. According to the text, Israel is the new name of Jacob and it means "one who strives with God."
According to Rashi, the change of name includes also a complete transformation of character:
"Not Jacob (means that) It shall no longer be said that the blessings came to you through trickery ( עקְָבהָ okbah - a word with the same root as Jacob) and deceit, but through noble conduct ( שררה - a root that can be extracted from Israel) and in an open manner." (Rashi on Genesis 32:29)
To understand Rashi's interpretation, we need some background: In Genesis 25, Jacob takes advantage of the famished Esau and gets him to sell the birthright for a bowl of lentil stew. Then, in Genesis 27, with the crafty direction of Rebecca, Jacob disguises himself and manages to convince his visually impaired and bedridden father, Isaac, that he was Esau. This is how Isaac bestows the blessing of the firstborn onto Jacob.
Thus, one interpretation of Jacob's wrestling in Genesis 32 is that Jacob wrestles with the demons inside of himself. Winning the fight that night, therefore, represents a new phase in the development of Jacob's character. Jacob's wrestling and triumph lead to Jacob's transformation into Israel, changing his persona at the core.
Jacob's wrestling, however, does not end with this one episode. His life does not follow a straight line from this point on. Nor does the journey of the children of Israel who bear his name. Moreover, the Torah narrative about the children of Israel always ends before the children of Israel enter the Promised Land. Just when they arrive at the threshold, we rewind the Torah back to the beginning and we start the journey all over again.
As Rabbi Brant Rosen has eloquently said,
"Redemption is not located in any particular place or point in time – it is experienced in the act of struggle itself. God cannot be found in a land or place, nor at some literal end time. God is in the struggle. We might even say, God is the struggle"
Amy K. Blank captures this sacred tension with piercing simplicity. Her poem becomes not only Jacob's voice but ours:
God: I am that which is not.
Search and you shall find
About your universe of thought
Only my shadow; grasp
Only to hold the measure of your grip.
So am I God–therefore let go!Jacob: I will not let you go.
Through this week's parasha, we are invited to reflect on our own personal wrestling and struggles.
What are the struggles you are holding, and what might they be transforming within you?
November 25, 2021
This week we read Parashat Vayeshev (Genesis: Genesis 37:1 - 40:23). In this parasha, we continue the story of dysfunctional family dynamics that are apparent throughout the book of Genesis—the uneasy father-son relationships, the painful intergenerational wounds of favoritism, the anger and resentment between siblings, and, deep down, the simple desire to be loved. Although we may cringe at the violence of the brothers toward Joseph, the narrative of Vayeshev also opens our hearts to the pain these brothers felt:
"And Israel loved Joseph more than all his sons, for he was the child of his old age, and he made him an ornamented tunic. And his brothers saw it was he their father loved more than all his brothers, and they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him." (Genesis 37:3-4).
The brothers devise a plan: to throw Joseph in a pit and tell their father that a "vicious beast" devoured him. When Joseph comes upon his brothers, they strip him of his "ornamented tunic" and cast him into the pit.
"And they took him and flung him into the pit, and the pit was empty, there was no water in it" (Genesis 37:24).
The Talmud asks for the reason the text included the second clause in the verse. The text already told us that "the pit was empty," so we already know that there was no water in it. This is the Talmud's answer:
What is the meaning of the verse that is written with regard to Joseph: "And they took him, and cast him into the pit; and the pit was empty, there was no water in it" (Genesis 37:24)? By inference from that which is stated: And the pit was empty, don't I know that there was no water in it? Rather, why does the verse say: There was no water in it? The verse comes to emphasize and teach that there was no water in it, but there were snakes and scorpions in it. (BT Shabbat 22a)
This is far worse. Instead of giving Joseph a chance to survive by throwing him into an empty pit, the brothers throw him into a pit of snakes and scorpions, condemning him to almost certain death and ensuring that he suffered to the greatest degree possible.
The last 20 months have felt like we have been collectively cast into a pit. Many of us have lost loved ones, jobs, businesses, and livelihoods. Mental health issues and suicides have increased, as well as health difficulties, depression, and isolation. Our children have been deeply affected by the prolonged lack of access to in-person schooling, and social isolation has had an adverse effect on the health and well-being of adults of all ages. Racism and other forms of discrimination have spiked, friendships have been destroyed, families have been divided. It feels as if we are living in an empty pit. We are suffering.
Sunday night marks the first night of Hanukkah. Hanukkah is the Jewish enactment of the movement from darkness to light. The Talmud teaches that Adam celebrated the first Hanukkah after experiencing his first winter solstice when he realized that the days were no longer getting shorter and darker, but were getting longer and brighter (BT Avodah Zarah 8a). And Hillel teaches that we light one more candle each night of the holiday to reflect that we should only ascend in holiness, and never descend (BT Shabbat 21a).
I want to invite you to fight against social isolation by celebrating Hanukkah with our anti-Zionist Jewish community at Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP). JVP is holding events almost every night of Hanukkah.
December 14, 2023
This week's Torah portion is Parashat Miketz (Genesis 41:1−44:17). Parashat Miketz continues the story of Joseph who, after being thrown into a pit by his brothers and falsely imprisoned during last week's parasha, this week interprets Pharaoh's dreams and becomes the second-in-command of Egypt and the savior of those same brothers who had wanted to kill him.
According to one midrash on Parashat Miketz,
Every affliction to befall man has a set time to end, as it is written, 'An end He set to darkness, and every limit He investigates' (Job 28:3). This is said regarding Joseph, who had been ten years in prison [when he asked the chief butler to intercede for him], but G‑d investigated and saw that it was necessary for him to be imprisoned for another two years . . . 'In every sorrow there is profit' (Proverbs 14:23). This too is said in regard to Joseph, who suffered in prison and then profited from it [in becoming] ruler over Egypt . . . (Midrash Tanchuma).
This midrash is telling us that every trial and tribulation has a designated endpoint, even when the darkness seems unending. In Joseph's story, the suffering he endured first in the pit and then in prison ultimately led to a position of power and influence and the saving of all the children of Israel.
In light of the ongoing genocide in Gaza, where we find ourselves feeling despair at the immensity of the atrocities we are witnessing, we can find a sliver of hope in this parasha. Like Joseph's time of darkness in the pit and in prison, the current situation seems interminable, with relentless violence and death. However, our tradition teaches us that there is an appointed time for every darkness to dissipate.
In this challenging moment, we are called to reflect on the possibility that, just as Joseph emerged from the depths of his struggles to become a force for good, there may be opportunities for positive transformation even in the midst of utter darkness. The Midrash encourages us to consider the notion that, within every sorrow, there is potential for profit — not necessarily in a material sense, but in the form of transformation and the eventual realization of justice.
As anti-Zionist Jews, our hearts are heavy with concern for the people of Palestine, but let us not forget the transformation that can emerge from the darkest of times. Our tradition teaches us to hold onto the belief that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable darkness and suffering, there exists a divine plan that guides us toward a brighter future.
As we navigate our emotions during these difficult times, may we find inspiration in the story of Joseph, understanding that the end of darkness is a certainty, and in the process, we may discover opportunities for transformation and healing.
December 2, 2021
This week's Torah portion, Miketz (Genesis 41:1 - 44:17), always coincides with Hanukkah, The Festival of Lights. What is the connection between Hanukkah and Parashat Miketz? There is a midrash that provides a link between the increased physical darkness that we experience around the time of Hanukkah and the spiritual darkness of Joseph's unjust imprisonment in Egypt in Parashat Miketz.
According to the midrash:
"At the end of two years' time . . . (Gen. 41:1). [It is written:] He sets bounds for darkness . . . (Job 28:3)—[God] set a definite period of time for the world to spend in darkness. What is the proof? He sets bounds for darkness [to every limit that a person may probe, to the stones of thick darkness and the shadow of death] (ibid.). For as long as the Evil Inclination exists in the world, thick darkness and the shadow of death persist in the world; once the Evil Inclination is uprooted from the world, thick darkness and the shadow of death will no longer be in the world.
Another interpretation:
He sets bounds for darkness . . .(Job 28:3) — [God] fixed a definite period of time for Joseph to spend in the darkness of prison. When the appointed time came, Pharaoh dreamed a dream that led to Joseph's release" (Genesis Rabbah 89:1).
This midrash suggests a parallel between Joseph and Job: Both biblical characters innocently suffer and afterward they explain the meaning of this suffering. They both survive tremendous anguish and then regain faith in life; they find light after a period of profound darkness.
Gustavo Gutiérrez, the father of liberation theology, turns to Job to understand the oppression of the Latin American people:
"The innocence that Job vigorously claims for himself helps us to understand the innocence of an oppressed people amid the situation of suffering and death that has been forced upon it" (Gustavo Gutiérrez, On Job: God-talk and the Suffering of the Innocent).
For Gutiérrez, the abject poverty of Latin American people is undeserved; it is due to systemic oppression.
Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, is also known as a story about the ongoing struggle for liberation in the face of oppression. However, as we have painfully learned, Jewish liberation cannot be a one-sided affair. This is why I want to invite you to an online event taking place TONIGHT: It's being presented by an organization called Canadian Friends of Sabeel. Sabeel is a Jerusalem-based Palestinian organization promoting a Palestinian Theology of Liberation.
As we continue to illuminate the darkness around us with our candles, let's keep in mind that God set a definite period of time for the world to spend in darkness. This too shall pass.
August 16, 2024
By: Esther Scholz
I don't think you recognize what a gift it is to experience one moment after another after another, to experience your finite life in linear time. I didn't realize this blessing until my grandfather is taking it away. Blessing me- cursing me- to live forever.
I'm on a spaceship, hurtling towards a distant star at 20% the speed of light. I'm on this spaceship for 40 years before this and 40 years after this. This is the middle of the journey, before everyone who leaves at the beginning is dead. Before everyone who arrives at the end is born. I'm trying to drink coffee in zero gravity. There's artificial gravity, but it's only on a small section of the ship, and that section is always crowded. I don't want to be there right now, don't want to be in a big crowd of people who are dying when this ship crash lands.
The coffee I'm drinking on the spaceship isn't as good as the coffee I'm drinking in a cafe in Baghdad. The Americans are bombing the cafe in a few years but not right now. Right now a man at the next table is bragging about his car, how smoothly it accelerates, how fast it can go. His friends are teasing him about how much money he spent on it, saying he loves that car more than his family.
We don't have a fast car on the journey out of Egypt, or a spaceship, we have to go on foot. From a spaceship the whole Earth looks like a grain of sand but walking across the desert carrying our little tents the sands seem as vast as the Galaxy. People are asking me about my uncles, the progenitors of the Twelve Tribes. As a kid I kind of thought they were murderers, leaving Uncle Joseph for dead like they did. Then my grandfather is blessing me and Joseph is dying all the same.
The synagogue is burning around me, in Isfahan, and I'm not warning anyone beforehand. Maybe I'm leaving my community for dead, maybe I'm the one who's a murderer now. I don't like trying to warn people. Jeremiah and Isaiah are trying to warn people, are they happy? Is anyone listening? The prophets, their job is to tell the future, but my job is to tell the past, and I'm quitting. Part of me is looking forward to when it all burns down, when I get to disappear and they build me a tomb.
I'm sliding between identities, hoping my immortality goes unnoticed. I'm Sunni then I'm Shi'a then Christian, Iranian then Iraqi. Eventually I'm Jewish again, but not like before. With power and privilege and guns this time. A Muslim family is living in my house before I get here. They get it back, in the end, when Palestine is free. I go somewhere else, become someone else before that happens. It's a comfortable place in the meantime, though. The view from the balcony is beautiful. I like to drink coffee there after shacharit, see the Promised Land bathed in the early morning sunlight. The coffee still isn't as good as it is in Baghdad.
I'm crossing the Jordan, entering the Land for the first time. It really is beautiful. The bones I'm finding for Moses, Joseph's bones, are being buried in a nice grave and the bones of the people who already live here are being scattered like crumbs from a feast. And in time, it's our turn, we're being conquered, we're being scattered. That's how it goes.
I'm sitting here for a long time, in the wreckage. Not much to do on this windswept and lifeless world. Everything is dust in all directions, and slowly it buries my crewmates. I'm making grave markers for the ones whose names I know but eventually I run out. I stare at Earth's sun, a tiny speck of light from here. I wonder how humanity is doing in my absence.
You probably have a lot of questions about the future. When does Palestine get free? When do we make it out of the solar system? What happens with climate change and COVID? Unfortunately for you I don't prophesy; I hardly even remember. I'm narrating and I'm experiencing and I'm talking to you and I'm talking to Moses and the sparks are flying from the wreckage of the ship on this far-off planet to the Torah scrolls in the synagogue. Bombs are shattering the windows of the cafe where I'm finishing that cup of coffee. One night I look up and in place of the star whose light is making a heart shape in my mug, there's a nebula. And I rend my clothes and lament, O Jerusalem, O Isfahan, O Baghdad, O Hebron.
Eventually a man is walking towards me, impossibly. "I am Elijah." he says "The Messiah has come." Humankind has been dead for a long time and G-d has abandoned us for even longer, and yet this day is here. I don't know what will happen after this. And as far as I'm concerned, that's good news.
January 3, 2025
The moment that opened my eyes to the oppression and ethnic cleansing of the Palestinian people by the state of Israel was August 19, 2002, when I was traveling from Tel Aviv to London, alone.
I boarded the plane and sat next to a stranger who happened to be Rabbi Jeremy Milgrom. At the time, I already had a Ph.D. in Philosophy, but I was completely ignorant about the realities faced by the Palestinian people.
I simply didn't know anything about Palestine.
I was a Zionist.
I didn't know there was a different way to be Jewish.
I could sense that something was wrong, but I had no idea what. Like most Jews, I also believed the Zionist propaganda.
I was probably a religious Zionist because I genuinely thought that the existence of the state of Israel was part of God's plan. At the same time, I believed the government of Israel was ruining that plan. That was an intuition I had because the media reported all these bad things happening. It looked to me as if the government of the state of Israel was ruining God's plan. Yet, for me, the very fact that there was a Jewish state in the world was a miracle.
Rabbi Jeremy Milgrom explained the situation to me. I simply didn't know. This is embarrassing for me: despite my academic credentials and a Ph.D. that focused on Judaism, theology, and philosophy—including a chapter on Israel—the word "Palestine" did not appear anywhere in my dissertation. I simply didn't know.
After my conversation on the plane with Rabbi Milgrom, everything changed.
Rabbi Milgrom said he believed in "love, forgiveness, and reconciliation between Jews and Palestinians." That phrase shocked me: at the time, those words didn't make sense in my brain in the same sentence.
At the end of our conversation, I said to him, "You have radically changed my religious, political, and philosophical beliefs."
This week's Torah portion, Parashat Vayigash (Genesis 44:18–47:27), includes the moving reunion between Joseph and his brothers. The scene when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers is both enviable and unsettling:
And Joseph said to his brothers, "Come close to me, pray," and they came close, and he said, "I am Joseph your brother whom you sold into Egypt. And now, do not be pained and do not be incensed with yourselves that you sold me down here, because for sustenance God has sent me before you. Two years now there has been famine in the heart of the land, and there are yet five years without plowing and harvest. And God has sent me before you to make you a remnant on earth and to preserve life, for you to be a great surviving group. And so, it is not you who sent me here but God ... (Genesis 45:4-8).
Joseph's ability to see the big picture is enviable. Who wouldn't want more certainty about our achievements and purpose? Yet, his narrative also erases his brothers' agency.
Our acceptance of an ontology is similar in principle to our acceptance of a scientific theory: we adopt the simplest conceptual scheme into which the disordered fragments of raw experience can be fitted. But simplicity, as a guiding principle in constructing conceptual schemes, is not a clear and unambiguous idea; it is quite capable of presenting a double standard (Quine "On What There Is").
It doesn't matter who we are; we all constantly engage in the process of slotting the "disordered fragments of raw experience" into an overarching framework. And constructing these narratives necessitates choice. We choose the framework.
In revealing himself to his brothers, Joseph has chosen a framework, a vocabulary to describe his life, that allows him to forgive his brothers. Like Joseph revealing himself to his brothers in Egypt, Rabbi Milgrom revealed reality to me. Oh, how much I have cried since that day.
We all depend on the frameworks that we create to make sense of our experiences. The challenge is to forge narratives for our lives that serve us, that empower us, that are strong enough to hold us when confronted with life's ups and downs, yet remain flexible enough to allow others in so that they can impact our lives.
December 17, 2024
This week's Torah portion, Vayigash (Genesis 44:18 - 47:27), includes the moving reunion between Joseph and his brothers (Gen. 44:18–46:30).
The scene when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers is both enviable and disturbing:
And Joseph said to his brothers, "Come close to me, pray," and they came close, and he said, "I am Joseph your brother whom you sold into Egypt. And now, do not be pained and do not be incensed with yourselves that you sold me down here, because for sustenance God has sent me before you. Two years now there has been famine in the heart of the land, and there are yet five years without plowing and harvest. And God has sent me before you to make you a remnant on earth and to preserve life, for you to be a great surviving group. And so, it is not you who sent me here but God ... (Genesis 45:4-8)
Joseph's ability to see the big picture is enviable. Who wouldn't want a little more assurance about what we have achieved and what our purpose is. But the price for Joseph's certitude is that the brothers' agency is eliminated.
Our acceptance of an ontology is similar in principle to our acceptance of a scientific theory: we adopt, at least insofar as we are reasonable, the simplest conceptual scheme into which the disordered fragments of raw experience can be fitted and arranged... But simplicity, as a guiding principle in constructing conceptual schemes, is not a clear and unambiguous idea; it is quite capable of presenting a double standard (Quine "On What There Is").
It doesn't matter who we are, we all constantly engage in the process of slotting the "disordered fragments of raw experience" into an overarching framework. And constructing these narratives necessitates choice. We choose the framework.
On revealing himself to his brothers, Joseph has chosen a framework, a vocabulary to describe his life, that allows him to forgive his brothers.
How can we forge narratives for our lives that are strong enough to hold us steady when confronted with life's ups and downs, yet flexible enough to allow others in so that they can impact our lives?
We all depend on the frameworks that we create to make sense of our experiences. The challenge is to forge narratives for our lives that serve us, that empower us, that are strong enough to hold us when confronted with life's ups and downs, yet flexible enough to allow others in so that they can impact our lives.<
December 27, 2023
Gaza has become a constant. Gaza continues to stun me. The echoes of the Torah's warnings resonate as I witness the the genocide being carried out in Gaza.
Several weeks ago, in the Torah portion Parashat Vayishlach, Dinah was born and then raped by Shechem who then wanted to marry her. This is almost the only information we have on this sister character.
In seeking revenge, Dinah's brothers convince Shechem and his father Hamor to order all males to be circumcised in order to be allowed to marry Hebrew women.
When the men were incapacitated after their circumcision, Jacob's two sons, Simeon and Levi, Dinah's brothers, murdered every male and pillaged the entire town.
Yes the rape of Dinah is horrific. But does this merit the brothers' perpetrating the massacre of Shechem?
When their father Jacob learns of Simon and Levi's actions, he bemoans the massacre:
"You have stirred up trouble for me, making me stink among the land's inhabitants, among Canaanite and Perizzite, when I am a handful of men. If they gather against me and strike me, I shall be destroyed, I and my household" (Genesis 34:30).
In this week's portion, Parshat Vayechi (Genesis 47:28–50:26), Jacob is on his deathbed gathering his sons around him to hear his last words. Again, he curses Simon and Levi for their actions in Shechem:
Simeon and Levi, the brothers—
weapons of outrage their trade.
In their council let me never set foot,
their assembly my presence shun.
For in their fury they slaughtered men,
at their pleasure they tore down ramparts
Cursed be their fury so fierce,
and their wrath so remorseless!
I will divide them in Jacob,
disperse them in Israel.
(Genesis 49:5-7)
"their assembly my presence shun (Genesis 49:6)." The Hebrew says literally, "in their assembly let my presence not join." The point is that Jacob is ostracizing the two brothers. As Ibn Ezra put it in the 12th century, Jacob wants no part of their schemes and does not want them associated with his name.
The massacre wrought by Simeon and Levi was motivated by sheer revenge. Even as the anger motivating it was understandable, it ultimately solved nothing and caused even more problems. So too, Israeli society, enabled and encouraged by Islamophobic elements both within and outside of the Israeli government and diaspora institutions, continue to seek revenge against all Palestinians. They see no path other than wanton violence.
This is unsustainable.
As we all learn to grapple with these true and inhuman events and find ways to take action for the people suffering in Gaza, let's remember that Jewish tradition calls us to speak up against revenge and violence, and to seek justice.
December 16, 2021
This week's Torah portion, Parashat Vayechi, focuses on the death of Jacob, as he "blesses" each of his 12 sons.
The first two verses of the deathbed scene seem unnecessarily repetitive:
And Jacob called his sons and said, "Gather round, that I may tell you what shall befall you in the days to come. Assemble and hearken, O Jacob's sons, and hearken to Israel your father. (Genesis 49:1-2)."
Jacob sounds wary, almost stalling for time, and he ends up talking about past hurts instead of future blessings:
"Reuben, my firstborn are you ... unsteady as water ... for you mounted the place where your father lay, you profaned my couch, you mounted! (Genesis 49:3-4)."
According to the rabbis, Jacob lost his prophetic ability when he was about to reveal details of the eventual redemption to his children on his deathbed.
He wanted to reveal the end of days and the Divine Presence left him, so he began saying other matters. (Rashi on Genesis 49:1:1)
It is understandable to yearn for moments of light to illuminate the unredeemed world in which we live, particularly at times of terrifying transition – from life to death, from one pandemic to another – we desperately look ahead into an uncertain future. But the rabbis urge us not to speculate about things beyond our understanding. Even a figure as close to God as Jacob on the threshold of death could not penetrate the veil that conceals what awaits us. We are better served by reflecting on the lessons of things past. And so Jacob slips into talking about his family's turbulent history.
Better to look back to look at what is increasingly clearer rather than to look forward to that which is frustratingly obscure.
Today, let's look back at Israel's designation of six reputable Palestinian human rights organizations as "terroritst" institutions back in October, a designation intended to halt the work of Palestinian human rights organizations in documenting Israel's past and ongoing human rights violations and war crimes.
Many world leaders, advocates, allies, celebrities, and international NGOs issued statements of condemnation, but these efforts have so far remained isolated and not strong enough to hold Israel accountable.
It is for this reason that the six organizations and their allies have created a new website dedicated to the #StandWithThe6 campaign, which allows supporters to send emails directly to US and EU leaders, demanding to pressure Israel to revoke its unlawful designation, as well as to sign petitions and amplify the voices of Palestinian civil society organizations.
Please visit the campaign's website and take action.
Israel's designations are an escalation of its ongoing assault against Palestinian civil society. We must stand strong in solidarity with Palestinian civil society and demand that others rise in solidarity also. Please visit the website and take action.